


The Virtues of Sand

by Anarfea



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Missing Scene, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Character of Color, POV Max, Pirates, Polyamory, Racism, Sex Work, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarfea/pseuds/Anarfea
Summary: Sand has its virtues. On sand, nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. And fates change so quickly. Max Rises. Eleanor Falls. And Anne searches for her identity.
Relationships: Anne Bonny/Max, Eleanor Guthrie/Max
Comments: 30
Kudos: 19
Collections: Femslash February





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note on those big scary archive warnings. The deaths and noncon in this fic are canonical, and I've done my best to keep the worst of it offscreen. So if you can handle the canon, you can probably handle this.
> 
> A note on the relationship tags. This fic will focus on the relationships between Max and Eleanor and Max and Anne. That said, the canonical relationships between Eleanor and Charles Vane and Eleanor and Woodes Rogers, and between Anne and Jack Rachkham, will be shown. I didn't tag them because they are not the focus of this story.
> 
> This fic will show most of the plot of Black Sails from Max's POV, plus additional missing scenes, in a non-linear order. I wrote this to be accessible to people unfamiliar with the Black Sails canon. It should stand even if you haven't seen the show (but you should watch it; it's a great show!)

_My hair is sticky with the night’s heat. Crickets chirp. Mosquitoes bite. I walk, silent on bare feet, from the slave quarters where my mother lies sleeping to the big house. It is a familiar path, which I have trod many times. Still, my heart beats hard in my throat. To be caught is to be beaten, or worse. I reach the parlor and stand outside the window on tiptoe. Candlelight glimmers through the glass. I peer inside at the glow cast by the candelabras. One sits atop a harpsichord. A girl sits at it, her hands on the keys, ivory white like her skin. Her beautiful skin. She plays. The melody pulls something out of me which I cannot name. I press my nose to the glass. The pane is cold._

_He sits next to her, turning the pages. His strong hand is on her back, strokes her golden hair. He smiles at her. My heart aches. He has never once smiled at me. He does not even see me. He is her father. He is my father. I want him to turn around. To look at me. I bend down, hand searching the earth to find a rock. I hurl it at the window. It bounces off the glass with a thunk. The girl turns around. Her eyes are wide. The man turns too. He is angry. My heart pounds in my ears. He stands up from the harpsichord. He shakes a fist at the window. I turn to run, but my feet are stuck in place. The mud holds them fast. The man leaves the parlor and goes out the door of the main house. I see him, walking in the moonlight towards me. He comes close and stands toe to toe with me, staring down at me. Then he picks me up by the throat. I cannot breathe. I kick my legs at him helplessly. He squeezes tight. I bang at him with my fists, but it’s futile. He shakes me._

I cry out. My eyes fly open. Daylight stings them, streaming through the gossamer curtains. I throw a hand over my eyes. I roll over in bed, searching for Eleanor.

“Max?”

It is not Eleanor.

“Is everything all right?”

My throat is dry. It takes me a moment to speak. “ _Wi, mwen cheri_. Everything is fine.”

In fact nothing is fine. In the light of day, I remember what happened under the cover of darkness last night, when John Silver attempted to extort money from me. When I attempted to take him into custody and his man killed four of mine.

Georgia reaches towards me. Her arms are golden in the morning light. Her hair is golden, too.

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?”

Usually they are about the beach. Of Hamund. Sometimes of Vane. This one was new. I wonder how many new nightmares I will have before the war for Nassau is over.

“Let me make it better.” Georgia kisses my mouth. I yield to her kiss, letting her clasp my face in her palms, parting my lips to let her tongue chase mine. Miss Mapleton sent Georgia to my bed to ‘tend to my needs.’ As once she had sent me to Eleanor to tend to hers. Her kisses taste of ambition, even though I have warned her that if she wants to warm my bed she must not play games. There is little comfort in her embrace.

I roll over, taking control, lying on top of her. I kiss down her neck, tongue probing the well between her clavicles. I kiss between her breasts, over the soft curve of her belly. I follow the trail of fine downy hairs from her bellybutton to her sex. The scent of her is rich and her curls are golden and with her thighs around my ears I can almost pretend she is Eleanor.

* * *

After, we lie together, spent. Georgia falls asleep, but I cannot. Last night still troubles me. I had intended to capture John Silver and send him to a penal colony north of Florida. I had not counted on the sheer ferocity of his man. Silver and he killed four of my men and slipped through my fingers. They will be back.

There’s a loud bang, and the doors to my bedchamber swing open without warning. Two of the Governor’s redcoats enter.

“What the fuck is this!” I demand “Get out!”

The men do not move. One nods at me. “Get dressed.”

I stand up, dropping the sheet. If these men think they can intimidate me by seeing my nakedness they are mistaken. I walk to the wardrobe and select a gown. Georgia helps me into it. Her eyes are frightened, darting to the men and me and back again. As soon as my stays are laced, the two men grab me by the arms and escort me from the brothel. Georgia disappears. I know she will go to Idelle and Mr Featherstone and tell them I am arrested.

* * *

The men take me to Captain Berringer’s office. He is in charge of security, with Governor Woodes-Rogers away. He is seated at his desk in an enormous chair, a glower on his blond-bearded face. He is an odious man. A weak man. A dangerous man.

Along the wall, Judge Adams and a man I do not recognize are seated in smaller chairs. There is to be a mockery of a trial, then.

“Mr Harrison, proceed,” says Captain Berringer.

“Six men with you,” says Mr Harrison. “They never looked my way as I stayed a considerable distance. Saw you meet two others late last night, one of them standing on just one leg. Saw it all.”

Berringer leans forward on his elbows. “I had him follow you after you left town so abruptly last night. I assume the one-legged man was Long John Silver. Would you like to tell me what the meeting was about?”

I stand in front of his desk, arms at my sides. “I was summoned by him in a failed attempt to extort money from me.”

 _You owe me._ Silver had said. _Certainly your fortune. Probably your life. I’ve come to offer you a chance to earn back our friendship, or, more specifically, to buy it back._

“I would hope that your spy also informed you that four of my six men attempted to arrest him and died in the effort.” I can still hear the clash of steel on steel, the crunch of bone beneath Silver’s man’s axe. “I was barely able to escape myself. Surely this should mitigate any doubt you may have about my loyalties.”

Berringer smirks. “If you were loyal to the governor, why did you not inform me of the meeting before the fact? If you are loyal to the governor, why attempt to arrest a man as dangerous as he rather than simply eliminating him?”

Truthfully, I had thought of having Silver murdered, and I had told him as much. _I am tempted to put the sword to you and your man both, and bury this story for good, but what am I if I spend my days pleading for a return to civility and then do dark things under the cover of night? So, you will remain in my custody until I can find a place far from here to deposit you. You will be gone, but you will live. And for that, I will consider whatever debts I may owe you to be paid in full._

“If you had informed me,” Berringer continues, “I’m sure I could have helped in that regard. My questions about your loyalty, ma’am, are not mitigated by last night’s events. If anything, they are now aggravated to an intolerable degree.” He stands, turning to Judge Adams. “Does the testimony presented satisfy a charge of treason?”

“Wait--” I interject.

“It does,” says Judge Adams.

“This is outrageous. When the Governor returns, he will not stand for this.”

“The Governor is not here. I am here. And you are now under an indictment that carries with it the penalty of death.” He leans forward, placing his hands on the desk, staring down at me. I meet his gaze. Better men than he have threatened my life before.

“Mr Harrison here trailed Long John Silver before losing him in the wrecks. Men and horse await in the square, preparing to clear that area and apprehend him.” He walks towards me. “Today is the day the pirate resistance dies, its leader eliminated, its supporters in Nassau exposed and arrested.” He stands almost toe to toe with me, glaring at me down his nose. “If you cooperate with me to that end, perhaps your death might still be averted.”

And there it is. What he wants. For me to betray my sources in the resistance. Idelle. And Mr Featherstone. My friends.

Judge Adams and Mr Harrison stand up and depart. Leaving me alone with Berringer. He pulls a chair out for me and places it in the center of the room. I sit.

He paces around me, trying to use his height and girth to intimidate me. “The other day,” he says, “you refused to name the source you used to undermine the pirate invasion of the bay... as a matter of principle. Since that time, Long John Silver and his associates have murdered one of my men... murdered four of your men... murdered a family of three on the Underhill estate in cold blood last night, including an eight-year-old girl. Knowing now how high the bodies are piling, how real the threat is, I am giving you an opportunity to remedy your error and help me end this threat once and for all. I want the names of your sources.”

“I am sorry,” I drop my eyes from his, “but I cannot do that.”

“Cannot or will not?” He clenches his fist. “These men would turn on you in a blink of an eye. Why would you go to such lengths to protect them?”

“I told you,” I say slowly, conscious of my accent, of the way it makes men like him look down on me. I speak French, Creole, and Fon in addition to English, but pigs like Berringer still think that because I sometimes struggle for words that I am stupid. “I have an understanding with the governor. In which he acknowledged--”

“Give me the names.”

“--the benefit of my being able to honor my word to my sources--”

“Give me the names.”

“So that I might continue--”

“Give me the names.”

“--to serve his regime in the future--”

“Give me the names.”

“--as I have served it every day--”

“Give me the names.”

“--until now.”

He stops in front of me, bending down and screaming into my face. “Give me the names!”

The door opens. It’s Eleanor, worry writ large on her face, authority in her stance. She’s in an expensive green gown, looking every bit the Governor’s wife. “What is going on here?”

Barringer flusters. “Apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“What are you doing?” she snaps.

“Men are dead. And I am trying to get her to reveal her sources--”

Eleanor touches him on the elbow. “There is something I must explain to you--” her eyes flick towards me, “--privately.”

Berringer huffs, but follows her out the door.

I can hear Eleanor’s voice as they walk out. “She is the most influential member of the Governor’s Council. Whatever tension there has been, he relies upon her to maintain control.”

I continue to sit in the chair, staring at the floor. Eleanor is trying to rescue me, again. As she once rescued me from Hamund, pulling him off of me and beating him with a tent pole, waving it in the air and screaming that Vane’s crew was finished.

I did not want her protection then. I was too wounded by her betrayal, by the way she refused to run away with me and threw me aside for Flint. And so I chose to go back to the Ranger crew, to endure rape and torture on the beach until Eleanor conspired with Anne to rescue me again, to murder Hamund and the others. I took her help then, from necessity. But I did not like it. I do not like it now, either.

A few minutes later, she comes back into Berringer’s office, without Berringer.

“I explained the situation to him.” She shuts the door behind her. “He’s in no mood to be reasoned with on the issue. You saw him, Silver? What happened?”

I sigh, not keen to recount the adventure again. “It was him and one other. I had six men. I thought it would be sufficient to apprehend him myself.”

“Apprehend him?” she’s incredulous. “No one asked you to apprehend him. All you had to do was report the invitation to meet and let the captain handle it. How in God’s name did that not occur to you?”

I look up at her, choosing my words carefully. “I did not fail to do it. I refused to do it. And would again.”

“Why would you refuse to adhere to the law?”

I stand up, squaring off with her. “Because the last time the law got its hands on a pirate of that stature, it yielded the following: Anger. Hostility. Resentment. Purges to combat it all that only resulted in amplifying it all, and a resistance movement that, since Captain Vane was hanged--”

Eleanor rolls her eyes, shakes her head, refusing, as always, to take accountability for her part in the matter. Vane died because she wanted vengeance for her father’s death, and New Providence bled for it.

“--has done nothing but grow strong enough to control almost every part of this island outside of Nassau. And you ask why I chose not to help start the cycle all over again?”

“There is a ship in the bay that is supposed to be taking me to a place where I might actually solve our problems here. But instead, I am stuck here for as long as it takes to fix this. In order to do that, you are going to have to give me something to fix it with. But you’d better come up with something of value I can use to get him to walk away from this.”

“You think you can control him.” I am not sure which ‘him’ I mean. Berringer. Governor Woodes Rogers. It does not matter. “And by the time you realize he has been controlling you, it is going to be too late.”

A man shouts outside, his voice carrying through the open window. “Riders returning!”

Eleanor looks out the window, then at me. “Give me something I can use because otherwise I can’t help you.”

I do not want you to help me, I want to say, but the words stick in my throat.

“And I beg your pardon, but what the fuck have you got to lose?” She storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Everything,” I say to the empty room. “Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Max's native tongue--I know on the show she speaks French, but that never sat right with me. While I am sure Max knows French, I think, that being born a slave, her native tongue probably actually would be some sort of Creole. I used Haitian Creole for this fic, which is anachronistic, as Haiti didn't exist in 1715, but I'm going with the fan theory here that Max was originally from Saint-Domingue, which eventually became Haiti. I hope you will forgive the anachronism because so much of the show is anachronistic, lol. I also do not speak Haitian Creole; what little I'm using comes from internet research, so, if you happen to speak it and I make any errors, please do let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

“Max.” Miss Mapleton comes into my room without knocking. She has a smile on her face. Her gray hair is piled high above her head. “You have a special client today.”

“Special how?”

“A woman client. I know you like those.”

I let the dig slide. A woman? Those are rare. “Who?” I ask.

“Miss Guthrie.”

Eleanor Guthrie. Daughter of Richard Guthrie. The main fence in Nassau, indeed in all of the Bahamas. His powerful family owns the Guthrie Trading Company. They are one of the richest families in the New World. And they own slaves. Mr Scott, Mr Guthrie’s slave, runs most of the business in Nassau while Mr Guthrie lives in a grand house inland. For the past few years, Eleanor has begun working alongside him. And she has begun meddling in the affairs of the pirates. She was briefly a lover to Charles Vane, and conspired together with him and Captain Hornigold to banish Blackbeard himself from the island. Now she is respected. Feared. Everything I am not.

“I’ve told her she needs to relax,” says Mrs Mapleton. “Make sure she does.”

“ _Wi_. When will she arrive?”

“She is already here. Go downstairs.”

I walk down to the main room of the brothel. Music is playing. People are drinking, even though it is still morning. Still, it is quiet compared to the way the place will get come nightfall. I imagine Mrs Mapleton encouraged her to come when it was less crowded, that she might be more comfortable. And I will make her more comfortable still.

She’s seated at a table by herself, both hands curled around a mug of ale. She looks up at me when I walk down the stairs, green eyes following me as I come and sit across from her. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy braid. She looks so young, though I suspect we are actually of an age. I am three and twenty.

“Hello.” I smile. “I’m Max.”

She smiles back. It’s tight. “I’m Eleanor.”

“I know who you are, Miss Guthrie.”

“Eleanor. Please. Mrs Mapleton says you’re the best.”

“It is true.”

“I’ve…” her eyes drop to her mug. “I’ve never been with a woman before.”

My smile broadens. “Max has been with many women. Let her show you the way.” I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. She watches me, eyes wide.

“Come,” I stand up. “We should go upstairs.”

I lead her up the stairway to my room. I open the door. The bed is unmade. I wish her first time could be more special.

“Come to Max,” I say, and sit down on the bed.

She sits beside me.

I survey her clothes. She isn’t wearing a proper gown at all, but rather a skirt with a man’s styled shirt and vest. It’s all held in place by a wide leather belt from which the keys to the Guthrie warehouse dangle.

“Do not be afraid,” I tell her. “It is different with a woman. But it is good.”

I lean in slowly and brush my lips over hers. She returns the kiss hesitantly. She tastes of ale, but there is an underlying sweetness which reminds me why I have always preferred kissing women to men. I do not generally like kissing clients at all, but women clients are different.

I touch her cheek. Her skin is peaches and cream. So fair. I deepen the kiss, opening her mouth with mine. She lets out a little breathy sound which ignites a flame between my legs. It has been a very, very long time since I have felt desire with a client. I must not think on it. This is about her pleasure, not mine.

I guide her down on the bed, fingers in her long golden hair.

“Please,” she gasps.

“What do you want? Max will give you whatever you desire.”

“I don’t know. Show me.”

I do.

* * *

Eleanor comes to the brothel almost every day. And sometimes she takes me out on excursions. Mr Noonan, who owns the brothel, and Mrs Mapleton, the madam, do not like this, but Eleanor pays handsomely for the privilege. She pays to keep us exclusive, too. Other clients are allowed hand jobs, but that is it. I am grateful not to have to fuck men any more.

I like it best when we leave the brothel. She takes me into town with her, buys me fabric and ribbon from the merchant stalls. People stare, but she does not care. She’s coarse, and loud. She curses a lot. She is no lady. But then, neither am I.

She teaches me things. The latest is how to ride a horse. We ride together along the beach. The wind lifts my hair and I love the feel of the horse shifting underneath me. I love the feel of Eleanor shifting underneath me, too.

This afternoon, we are at her office in the tavern which her family owns. Eleanor is seated at an ornate wooden chair behind a big desk. She is writing with a quill in a big, leather-bound ledger.

“Show me?” I ask.

She laughs. “You would be bored. It’s nothing but accounts.”

I know my sums. Every whore does. And I can sign my name. But I cannot read, and this shames me. Eleanor is no bookworm, but she is lettered. She had a governess who taught her to read and write. I had no one.

“Teach me to read?” I ask.

She looks up, eyebrows raised. “Can you not?”

“Where would I have learned? I am a whore. And before I was a whore, I was a slave.”

Eleanor seems startled. “I just--I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “There is nothing to be sorry about. It is a fact.”

“Why should you like to read?”

“One day, you will run this whole place. And you will need a partner. A host for the inn. Max could be that person.”

She laughs. It stings. It must show on my face, because hers changes.

“Very well,” she says. “I shall find you a primer.”

* * *

The next day, when Eleanor comes to the brothel, she brings it with her.

“This is the New England Primer,” she says. “I first learned to read from one like it, back in Boston.”

She sits on my bed and opens the book. I look inside. I cannot make anything of the writing.

“Read to me?”

“The New England Primer. Improved, for more easily attaining the true reading of English.”

English. I should like to read English. I should like to read French, too.

Eleanor reads to me, slowly, placing her finger underneath each word as she sounds it out.

“Who. Was. The. First. Man? Adam. Who. Was. The First. Woman. Eve. Who. Was. The. First. Murderer. Cain.”

There’s a knock at the door. “Are you decent?” asks Mrs Mapleton.

“Yes,” I call back.

She opens the door, and takes in the site of Eleanor and I curled together on the bed, clothed and reading.

“What on earth--” she asks. “Max, what are you doing? Up here with a book when you could be on your back earning coin for Mr Noonan!”

Eleanor sits up, angered. “I’m paying for her, aren’t I?”

“For this?”

“What do you care whether we read or fuck, so long as you get your pieces?”

“Apologies, Miss Guthrie,” says Mrs Mapleton. “I had thought that perhaps Max here was wheedling you into wasting your time.”

“Why are you here?” demands Eleanor.

“Mr Noonan wanted a word with Max.”

“Not until we’re finished.”

“And when might that be?”

“When we’re finished.” There’s color spotting Eleanor’s cheeks.

Mrs Mapleton looks like she bit into something sour. “Very well. As soon as you’re finished, send Max downstairs.” She leaves, closing the door behind her.

“That dusty old bawd needs to mind her own business,” Eleanor mutters.

A lump forms in my throat. “She’s right.”

“The fuck she is.”

“You are paying for me. And I should not be wasting your time.”

“Max.” Eleanor strokes my hair. “You know I don’t think of you that way.”

“What way? As your whore?”

Her brows furrow. “Of course not.”

“Why not? It is what I am.”

“No. I thought we were more to each other than that.”

“All of my clients think that.” The words taste bitter.

“Max, please.”

“You should go. I should go speak with Mr Noonan, or he will be angry.”

“I will come back tomorrow.”

“If you wish.”

“Of course I wish. I love you.”

“You do not mean it.”

“I do. I do, let me prove it to you.”

I smile at her. Lie down and beckon her with crooked fingers. “Prove it, then. Perhaps we will make Mr Noonan wait, after all.”


	3. Chapter 3

After Eleanor leaves me in Berringer’s office, I make my way back to the brothel. I pass the square, where three pirates are hanging. I swallow my distaste. I know that to quell the rebellion the pirates who will not surrender must be killed. But I wish Berringner would not make such a spectacle of it. He means to draw out John Silver. But I fear he will draw out others, too.

The brothel is empty, windows boarded up. The girls are all shuttered inside their rooms. Four redcoats stand outside the door. I bristle. Is this Berringer’s work? Do they mean to bar my entry?

“Ma’am,” says one, “Mrs Rogers has requested that we escort you to the fort.”

I hesitate. I do not wish to leave the girls unprotected. But after last night, I fear Silver will kill me if we meet again.

“Very well,” I say.

I walk with the men down in the direction of Fort Nassau.

“Hurry,” says the redcoat leader. “They’re behind us.”

I begin to jog, then to run, up the path. I turn to look over my shoulder and note we are being pursued. But these are not pirates. These are inland men, farmers and slaves. There are perhaps twenty of them.

“Stop,” shouts their leader, brandishing a pistol. “Drop your weapons.”

My escorts lower their muskets. I cannot fault them. They are but four.

As the leader comes closer I recognize him. Billy Bones, less baby-faced now that he’s grown a beard. Billy is perhaps the real mastermind behind the pirate rebellion, though it’s being carried out in Long John Silver’s name. He has been terrorizing all the former pirates who accepted pardons from Governor Woodes Rogers, sending them letters with a black spot to let them know they are dead men. And he’s been mustering men inland, encouraging farm laborers and slaves to revolt against their masters.

“Well,” he says. “Look who we have here.”

I swallow.

“Bind her.”

I stand still. Two of the pirates take my wrists and tie them with rope. Another slips a gag between my teeth. I glare at Billy.

“You fucked us, Max. At the harbor.”

I cannot deny it. Though with the gag in my mouth, I could not even if I wished to. Mr Featherstone and Idelle found out about Governor Roger’s plan to intentionally sink ships in the harbor in front of Fort Nassau to create a blockade. They would have sent word to Captain Flint--had I not found out and persuaded them not to. I did not turn them over to Berringer because they are friends. But I made it clear to them that they can consort with the resistance no longer.

The sea battle for Nassau was a disaster for the pirates. Flint’s fleet ran aground on the underwater wrecks, stuck like sitting ducks below the fort’s canons. Only Blackbeard escaped, with Jack Rackham and Anne. It pains me to think of Anne, so I push the thoughts of her aside. 

“And not just at the harbor. You fucked us before. They held these mock trials at your tavern. You’re financing the fucking regime. Half the town wants you strung up.”

The trials were not my choice. Governor Rogers compelled me to hold them. But I know that this detail would likely not sway Billy, even if I could tell him.

“Come with us,” says Billy. “You’re a hell of a bargaining chip, that’s for sure.”

That is my one consolation. That they dare not risk killing me. I am too valuable to the Governor. To Eleanor.

“You two,” says Billy, “take her to the house. Everyone else, to Nassau town. Make haste.”

The distant sound of gunfire comes from the square.

“Run!” shouts Billy. The men run towards the center of town. My heart sinks. There will be bloodshed today.

The two men Billy has instructed to stay with me take me to a small house on the outskirts of town. They lead me downstairs, into the root cellar. There, I wait, listening to the sounds of battle, gunfire and the screams of men and horses, from above. I cannot know what is happening outside. I cannot do anything, but sit on the floor in the dark and wait.

* * *

Hours later, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. The door swings open, letting in a ray of sunlight. It’s Billy Bones. Captain Flint and John Silver are with him. My eyes flick to Silver, leaning on his crutch, his single leg supporting him. This might well be the end for me.

“We found her with a small escort, trying to move her up to the fort, I assume,” says Billy. “If you want her, I think there are some things we ought to discuss first... about our transition. And I think it would be for the best,” he turns to Silver, “if it was just you and I.”

Silver looks at Flint, who looks none too pleased. He turns around and walks back up the stairs, supporting himself with one hand on the wall. Billy follows him. Flint stays behind. He has shaved his head since I’ve last seen him, and his beard has grown in thick and red. A small black pearl gleams in his left ear.

He crosses to me, pulls the gag, wet with drool, from my mouth. Then he cuts loose the ropes that bind my hands.

“What has happened?” I ask.

“Nassau town has fallen,” he says. “Berringer is dead. Slain by Israel Hands.” His dislike is clear in the way he says the name. There are factions of pirates, I know. I had thought Flint and Silver were almost as close as Jack and Anne, that they spoke with one voice and thought with one mind, but it is clear from what I have seen here that there is tension between them. Billy means to push out Flint and replace him with Silver. Perhaps this Israel Hands does, too. I wonder if he was the man who slew four of mine.

“The fort still stands. And Eleanor Guthrie is holed up inside it. She has offered,” he says, “to trade you for the twenty prisnors she has at the fort.”

I am not surprised that Eleanor would try to ransom me. I am glad she has only twenty prisoners. I think if she had a hundred, she would offer them, too.

“Come,” says Flint. “Let’s go upstairs.”

I follow him up, eyes adjusting to the light. He leads me into the small parlor. A broken chandelier sits in the middle of the table. I take a seat by the window. Flint departs.

A few minutes later, I hear Silver’s crutch on the floor outside the door. He comes in and sits across from me. He looks worn. Tired from a long day of fighting. There’s a cut above his left eye. His long beard and hair make him look far older than his years. He has a ring on each finger, a coat of fine linen, a sword at his side. He looks every bit a proper pirate now, moreso even than Captain Flint. If someone were to have him stand beside the fresh-faced cook I was asked to initiate at the brothel one year ago, I would not recognize him. 

“I would think some sort of thanks might be in order,” says Silver. “Billy was more than ready to throw you to the wolves out there. And to be honest, I was undecided about whether to go through with this deal at all. Sure, I get my men back in exchange for you.” He sighs. “But something tells me... if I free you, you’ll find a way to be a problem for me again, and soon.”

“Of course not. Why would I do that?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “When you and I last saw each other... you had every reason to see me killed. Certainly would’ve solved a lot of problems for you. And yet you didn’t. Why?”

I stare out the window.

“You know, I’ve had a rough few days owing to you. I’d be angrier about it, but I'm a little preoccupied being angry with other people. I just asked you a simple question. Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?”

“It would have solved some problems,” I admit. “It would have caused others that I chose not to live with.”

“What sort of problems would it have caused?”

“That I would have had to live with it.”

He smiles. Silver has murdered many men. He doesn’t understand why I should hesitate to become a murderer, would not want to have his death on my conscience.

“You said you wished to send me away. Somewhere where I couldn’t return. Out of curiosity, how were you planning to manage that?”

“When Anne was recruiting spies in Port Royal, she met a man with an estate in the wilderness, north of Spanish Florida. A reform-minded man... who uses convicts as laborers. Convicts he solicits from prisons in England where their treatment is far less humane. This man, we were told, found it profitable to offer his services to wealthy families, some of the most prominent in London on occasion, with a need to make troublesome family members disappear. Cared for, tended to, but never to be seen or heard from again.”

“What families?” Silver asks.

“What families?” I repeat.

“Do you know what families in London made use of this?” There’s a light in his eyes. I know that light. He is plotting something.

“I have no idea.” My influence extends far and wide in the Bahamas, but not so far as London.

Footsteps approach outside the door. A man opens it. “They’re ready.”

* * *

I walk to the fort with Flint and Silver and a small company of other men. When we draw close though, only two of us advance. The doors are heavy timber, reinforced with iron. They swing open. Eleanor stands in the sunlight, golden hair shining. Twenty battered looking men stream out from between the gates, rejoining Flint and Silver.

“Close the gates!” someone shouts.

I walk inside the heavy doors, which are flanked by redcoats. They shut with a heavy bang behind me.


	4. Chapter 4

“Today,” says Mrs Mapleton, “we have an initiation. A new pirate is going to come meet Blackbeard.”

I laugh. Usually servicing the men at the brothel is work, but the initiations are fun. “Who is it?” I ask.

“The new cook on the _Walrus_ crew. A Mr Silver.”

A cook should be fun. He will be no hardened warrior. And he may fall for our ruse.

Idelle and I help Elise get into costume. She dresses in a big black coat and a broad-brimmed hat pulled low over her eyes, sitting on an enormous chair in the middle of her bedroom. The rest of us fawn over her and fan her with feathers, pretending she’s Blackbeard.

The crew waits outside the door, which the initiate must open. He stands, peering into the gloom. He’s clean-shaven, with dark curly hair and bright blue eyes. He’s visibly nervous as he steps into the room.

After a moment, though, he begins to catch on.

“You’re not Blackbeard,” he tells Elise.

She stands up and takes off her coat, revealing her naked body and prodigious black bush.

“Oh.” His eyebrows go up. “I see.”

His crewmates laugh. “If you get lost in there, give us a yell,” they say, and close the doors behind him.

We throw Mr Silver on the bed and begin pulling off his clothes. One girl grabs each of his boots, another his coat.

When Idelle tosses his coat on the floor he tries to sit up, reaching for it. I swat his shoulder.

“Rules are rules,” I tell him. “And you... are ours.” 

He grins and lies back on the bed as we pull off his trousers.

Elise straddles him. Idelle pours rum in his mouth. But I notice, even as Elise rides his cock, his eyes keep darting to his coat, and particularly to a sheath of leather that has fallen out of his coat pocket. I make note of this for later as I kiss Geraldine for his amusement.

I stay behind after the other girls depart. Mr Silver climbs out of bed, frantically rummaging through his clothes. But I have already taken the sheath from the pile.

I brandish it at him. “A whore for every finger on your hand, but your eyes kept drifting to this. Tell me, what is it that is so precious to you?”

He lunges for me.

“One scream will bring Mr Noonan.”

“Bring him. I’ll let him know his whores like to steal from their customers.”

I smirk. “And he can let your new captain know you have withheld something of great value that rightly belonged to his latest prize.”

He blows a black curl out of his eyes. “So, what now?”

“This is to sell, is it not? But you cannot know who best to sell it to. I could know that.”

“Hmm, and what’s that going to cost me?”

I smile. “Half.”

He laughs at me.

I feign a pout. “Pleasure should be shared equally. It’s the only way to avoid hurt feelings.”

“Look, this deal, it’s really a terrible idea. There are so many ways it could go wrong. Me, I can’t help myself. I see an opportunity, I take it. It's a sickness. Truly. But you, you can still walk away.”

“ _Bon_. Now tell me what it is.”

He sits back down on the bed. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Let me see it.”

He opens the sheath and removes a paper page, clearly torn from a book. It’s covered with dates and numbers I assume are coordinates. It means nothing to me.

“When Captain Flint attacked our ship, I hid in the galley with the cook. He had it on him, protected it like his life depended on it. When I tried to take it off him, he attacked me. I defended myself.”

“You killed him?”

“Yes. I told Mr Gates, the quartermaster, that he killed himself. And I asked to be made a member of the _Walrus_ crew. I told them I’m an excellent cook.”

“You mean you are not even a real cook?” He laughs. “No.”

I shake my head. Perhaps it was stupid to propose an alliance with this man, after all. He is clearly an idiot.

“I think it’s a page from the captain’s log. My intention, before you stole it, was to row a boat out to the _Walrus_ , now that everyone is on shore, and find the captain’s log. Once we have the context for the page, we should know what we have to sell.”

“I will go with you.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

“I have as much to lose or gain as you do. And if nothing else, you will need a lookout.”

He scowls. “Very well.”

“Meet me on the docks at sundown.”

The night is calm, which is not how I feel inside. The docks are busy, even at night, but no one pays us any mind as we take the small rowboat and row alongside the _Walrus_. She is a big ship, made for a crew of forty to sixty men. The sight of her puts me ill at ease. I am not fond of ships, nor sailing.

“You should keep your distance till I signal you to return for me,” says Silver. “If anything should happen and I don’t return soon--”

“I leave.”

“Smart girl.”

He climbs out of the rowboat and up the built into the ship’s side.

I wait, heart in my throat. He takes far longer than seems reasonable. I am sure someone will see. I am just about to row away when he comes out on deck and waves at me. I wait until he climbs down.” “Well?” I ask. He has a huge grin on his face. “Let me tell you a story,” he says, “about a Spaniard named Vázquez.” I fold my arms. “Get to the fucking point. Or at least fucking row.”

Silver does row, but he also takes his time in telling the story.

“A few weeks ago,” he says, “Captain Parrish--that’s my old captain--was sitting in a tavern in Port Royal. Vázquez staggers in bleeding to death from a knife wound to the belly. The knife wound was courtesy of his former employer, _La Casa del Contratación_ , in Seville. Colonial intelligence. Naval, more specifically.”

“Why did they kill him?”

“Vázquezwas one of their top agents. And he was responsible for the security of a particular ship.”

“What ship!”

“A ship with a cargo so rich, the king of Spain is very anxious to see it launched. Vázquez warned that it was too late. Storm season was upon them and no escort could be mustered to guard her. But his superiors demanded that he sign off.”

My heart is pounding again, and this time, not from fear. “No escort to guard her?”

Silver Laughs. “Vázquez’s superiors advised him that since he couldn’t arrange for an escort, he should plot a course for the ship unknown to anyone but her captain and consider that route to be a state secret of the highest order.”

“And the page you stole. It is the route?”

Silver grins. “Yes. When Vázquez threatened to go to the court with his concerns, they killed him. But before he died, he gave the schedule to Captain Parrish, and he recorded it in his captain’s log. Somehow, it fell into the hands of the cook, and you know the rest.”

“I do not know the rest. What ship! How rich!”

“ _L'Urca de Lima_. The largest Spanish treasure galleon in the Americas. According to Vázquez, total cargo in excess of five million reales.”02d5b9c6

Five million reales. I cannot even imagine so much money. “Any pirate crew would pay a fortune for such a lead.” A fortune that could buy freedom for me and Eleanor. We could go anywhere. We could do anything. No more Mr Noonan, no more Mrs Mapleton, no more whoring.

“And you know who to sell to, right?”

The obvious choice is Captain Charles Vane, Captain Flint’s biggest rival. But I fear Vane. He has a history of being violent with the girls at the brothel. I do not dare make an offer to Vane directly. Better to approach Vane’s quartermaster, Jack Rackham.

“I do.”

* * *

Later that evening, Silver shows up at the brothel. There’s a twitchy air around him, as he sits alone nursing a bottle of rum. I do not like it. It will draw suspicion. I cross the room and sit in his lap.

“Have you found us a buyer?” he asks.

“Patience, _mezanmi_. Few here are willing to cross your captain. And those I have in mind must be approached with caution.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eleanor walk up to the bar. Her face is swollen. “Excuse me,” I say to Mr Silver.

Eleanor has poured herself a glass of rum. I take it away from her, then lead her by the hand to my bedroom. She sits on my bed. I close the door behind us.

“Who did this?”

Her eyes drop.

Vane. “Him.”

She shakes her head. “I started it.”

I scoff. As if that justifies a man hitting a woman. I pour a jug of water into a bowl and find a clean rag to make her a compress.

“Why would you do this?” 

I gently wipe her face and neck, then press it to her swollen jaw.

Eleanor winces. “Please.”

“When the sea grows rough, you come to Max.” I straddle her. “Max is your harbor.”

There are tears in her eyes. “It’s all coming apart. This place, I can feel it slipping away--” her voice chokes.

“Shhh.” I kiss her. “You are so ready to see the worst. You cannot see what is right in front of your nose.” I pull my dress from my shoulders, letting my breasts spill free. I hike up her skirt, reach between her legs. “The world is so full of surprises.” I whisper against her lips. “Let it surprise you.”

The next morning, I rise before Eleanor and dress. There’s a knock at my door. I answer. It’s Idelle.

“He’s downstairs,” she says.

I go down to the main floor of the brothel. Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny are in an isolated, curtained off corner, drinking together. Jack wears his usual flamboyant attire. Anne has a hat pulled low over her eyes. I step past Anne and sit in his lap. She sets her bottle down, angered, and moves towards me.

Jack stops her with a raised hand. “Can I help you?” he asks,

“Perhaps we can help each other.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“I think I have something you might want to buy.”

“Oh?” he asks. “What might that be?” I give him my brightest smile. “Let me tell you a story about a Spaniard named Vázquez.”

Silver comes up to my room while I’m trying to service a client. I shoo the client out, then turn to Silver in exasperation.

“Who do you think you are that you can cost me this money!”

“Necessary, I’m afraid. We have a problem. Flint’s onto me.”

A cold feeling turns my stomach. “And so you come here? What if you were followed?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I was careful.”

“Careful? You just told me you have been caught.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“You fucked me.” My hands start to shake with the adrenaline. 

“There’s no need to panic. We can still make the deal and--”

“And then what? How long before Flint discovers I had a part in this? When a man is being fucked, he wants to know whose cock was in him!”

“True,” he holds up his hands, trying to pacify me. “But by that time, these two cocks will be in a boat halfway to Port Royal.”

“Port Royal?”

“After I get payment, we meet at the boat in the cove and leave tonight. Unless there’s something else keeping you here.”

Eleanor. She will not want to leave for Port Royal.

“No. No, we can leave tonight.”

Once again, Idelle helps me. This time, she lets me hide John Silver in her room, which is adjacent to mine. A peephole connects them. Silver can hide here and see my meeting with Jack Rackham.

Jack comes back to the brothel a few hours later with an appraiser and a leather pouch filled with black pearls. The three of us sit at my table while the appraiser examines them under a magnifying glass.

“Excellent luster and orient. Rest assured, young lady, the quality is quite good. Two hundred pieces of eight at any clearinghouse in the civilized colonies.”

“And the rest of them?” I turn to Jack. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

The appraiser checks them all, then seals the pouch in a roll of muslin with sealing wax, to which he affixes his sigil. I pay him twenty pieces for his trouble.

“Happy to be of service.” He doffs his hat and leaves.

“Thank you for your patience in these matters.” I pour Jack a glass of wine. “You understand my partner simply wishes to be careful.”

“I wouldn’t fault him in the slightest. Now, shall we discuss delivery?”

“The wrecks at sundown. Once he sees the pouch with the seal unbroken, he will hand over the page.”

Jack stares at me.

"Is something wrong?"

“It’s unclear which is more appealing, your beauty or your intelligence.”

I smile through lowered lashes. “You are very kind, _mesye_.”

He grins. “Well, let’s not get carried away.”

The door flies open with a bang.

“You.” Charles Vane storms in, long hair flying behind him.

“Is there a problem, Captain?” asks Rackham.

“She doesn’t have your page,” says Vane. “Flint does. He killed Singleton, took it off his body. His crew’s skipping around the island like the prize is as good as theirs.”

Doubt clouds Jack’s face.

“That is impossible.” I reassure him. “My partner has the page.”

“What?” Vane demands.

“Mr Singleton is not the seller, I assure you.”

“What did you just say?”

“Charles--” begins Rackham.

“Shut up, Jack,” says Vane. He moves forward, backing me towards the wall. “You really want to keep pushing this? Play me for a fool?”

“You are mistaken.”

“Yeah, the fuck I am.” He shoves me into the wall. He's a large man, and strong. It hurts. “Tell me the truth. The page is gone.”

“No.” He wraps his hands around my throat. “Don’t fucking lie to me!”

Jack stands up. “She isn’t lying, Charles. Flint is.”

“What?” Vane turns to Jack. “He lost the page. So what does he do? He bluffs. He makes Singleton the thief and kills him to prevent counterargument, putting a tidy end to his mutiny in the process, then hopes he can recover it before anyone's the wiser.”

I swat helplessly at Vane’s arms. He squeezes tighter. Blood is thudding in my ears.

“Honestly, Charles, are we to believe that Singleton, while conspiring with you to depose Flint, was using this whore to try and bilk your crew out of its money? Say what you want about Singleton, but he was neither that clever nor that dumb. Now will you please put her down so we can complete our transaction?”

Vane lifts me up by the neck. I kick at him, but he doesn’t care. 

“Is that what you thought? You could fuck us out of our money and then hide behind Eleanor? You think I’d really let that happen? You think I’m that fucking pathetic?"

My vision is turning green. I glance frantically at the peephole, hoping that Silver and Idelle will see what’s going on and call for help.

Rackham follows my gaze towards the wall. He draws a dagger. He shouts and slams it through the peephole. Then he runs out the door into Idelle’s room. I pray that the dagger isn’t embedded in Silver’s eye.

Jack comes back. “Unless Mr Singleton rose from the grave to eavesdrop on us... it would appear she’s telling the truth.”

Vane drops me.

I collapse against the wall.

“If he’s wrong about this,” Vane glares down at me, “he’ll answer to our crew. If you’re lying, you’ll answer to me.” 

Idelle comes back with Mr Noonan. I’m sitting alone at my table, trying to compose myself.

“What happened!” he demands. “Did you fuck over the _Ranger_ crew?”

I stare at the ground.

“Nothing happened.”

“The fuck it did.” Idelle gets a pot of salve and applies it to my neck. There are abrasions where Vane’s thumbs cut into my skin.

The door opens again. It’s Eleanor.

“Good,” says Mr Noonan. “Maybe you can get her to talk.”

“I’m fine.” I sulk.

“The fuck you are. She nearly got herself killed by Captain Vane. I want to know why.”

“Leave us alone, Noonan.”

He cocks his head at Idelle. “Come on.”

The two of them go out. Eleanor follows to make sure they’re gone, and closes the doors. “Max, I…” she trails off.

“I’m glad you are here. I was going to send word for you. You and I have a decision to make and it must be made right now.” My eyes lock on hers. I hope she can hear the seriousness in my voice. “I’m about to receive a great deal of money for a service I provided.”

She comes and stands next to my table. “Max, I need you to give me the schedule. Flint’s schedule.”

My heart sinks. “How do you know this?”

She cannot meet my eyes. “It doesn't matter. Max, Flint needs that page. The money he can get from his prize, it can give this place a future. It can give us a future here.

I cannot believe she will side with Flint once she understands the predicament I am in. “If the page isn't delivered to Vane, he will kill me.”

She sits down across from me. “I can protect you. Scott can protect you. You have to trust me.”

I reach across the table and grasp her arm. “Leave with me.”

“What?”

“I have a boat waiting. I will have enough money for us to start anew.”

“But I can’t leave here.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” She stands up. “I’ve spent my life trying to build something here. It's all I have. I can’t just walk away.”

I am angry now. “It is not all you have!” How can she not see that she also has me? I stand up, pushing back my chair. “Eleanor, this place is just sand. It cannot love you back. You know this. You must know this. Your father left you. Your mother was taken from you. Everyone you have ever loved you have lost and it terrifies you. But not me.” I point at my heart. “I will never, ever leave you. I love you.”

Eleanor’s eyes fill with tears.

There’s a banging at the door. “Miss Guthrie!” I recognize Mr Gates’s voice. Eleanor has betrayed me.

“You brought them here?”

“I…” she cannot finish.

“Come with me.” I drop to my knees, grabbing both of her hands in mine. “Right now. The boat is waiting. We can be free of this place. We can have a life together. And it can start this very minute. All you have to do is say yes.”

Eleanor closes her eyes.

“Set us both free.”

For a few long seconds, she says nothing. I start to hope.

Then she looks up. “Come in.”

The door opens. Captain Flint, his quartermaster Mr Gates, and their boatswain Billy Bones come in. The three of them stand in a line, arms folded. Three of the most feared pirates in the Bahamas, here to threaten me at Eleanor's behest.

I drop Eleanor’s hands.

“Max, I need you to tell me where the page is.”

I get up off my knees. “And if I don’t, then what?”

“This doesn’t have to go badly,” says Mr Gates.

“I want her to say it,” I tell him. “I want her to say that she will sit there and watch as you beat the answer out of me to save this place.” I whirl on her. “Say it.”

Eleanor shakes her head.

“Say it.”

Eleanor stands silently, tears welling in her eyes. And in that moment, I decide to spare her, not myself, the beating.

“The wrecks at sundown.”

Flint nods at the others. The three of them leave.

“Max, please.” Eleanor comes towards me.

I hold up my hand. “Get the fuck out.”

“I meant what I said. I can protect you.”

“Get the fuck out!” I scream the last words.

Eleanor leaves, wiping away tears. I fall to my knees, sobbing. A huge hole opens up inside my chest. A great sucking wound. I let my head fall into my hands. Our love was not enough. I was not enough. And I know, whatever Eleanor said about protecting me, that I am finished.


	5. Chapter 5

I sit deep within the bowels of the fort, in a small room that’s been reprovisioned as a bedroom but which is more like a cell. Moisture drips from the stone walls. Candlelight keeps the place from being in complete darkness.

Eleanor comes in, carrying a tray with bread and cured meat and cheese. “I’m sorry for what happened today,” she says. “The moment I realized what was about to happen, I sent men to find you.” She sits down next to me. “I’m just thankful we were able to get you in time.”

In time? Billy Bones captured me. I might have been killed. “You are sorry... for what happened today. What happened today was exactly what I have been warning you about from the moment you and your husband first arrived here. Again, and again, and again. That the decisions you made at every turn would eventually lead us to this. Everything I have is gone because of it.” The pirates have control of Nassau town. All of my assets will be seized. All my hard work will be for nothing. “If you wish to apologize, what happened today... does not begin to cover it.” She owes me so many apologies. She owes me so much that an apology would never cover. Her ledger will always be in the red with me, and she knows it.

For a few long moments, we sit together in silence.

“Where would we have gone?” she asks.

“What?”

“A long time ago, you asked me to leave Nassau with you to avoid ruin. If I had said yes, where would we have gone?”

I think back to that night, when I knelt at her feet and begged her to run away with me. We were meant to take a boat to Port Royal. But I had not thought ahead beyond that. “I have no idea.” I did not care. It would have mattered only that we were together.

“I was so close to saying yes. There were good reasons to say yes and... I heard it in my mind, tried to speak it over and over again. But when the moment finally came... I had put so much of myself into this place, in that moment, I honestly didn't know where I ended and it began.” I didn’t understand that, in the moment. I told Eleanor that Nassau was just sand. I understand it now. Now that I have been her. Now that I have betrayed Anne as she betrayed me. “There may be ways of severing oneself in that way... sacrificing one part to save the other. But... in that moment... I honestly couldn't find something sharp enough to make the cut.”

A lump forms in my throat. “What would have been enough?”

Eleanor looks stricken. She’s silent.

I scoff. It does not matter. That was a long time ago, and it is over, and I do not even think she knows.

“I truly am sorry. For all of it. If there was a way I could make things right here, I’d do it. But now, given everything you have seen here in recent months... can you honestly say that you believe that Nassau will ever really be what you wanted it to be?”

Nassau has no future now.

She sighs. “Neither can I. But there may be a way that we can take something from it... if you’ll help me.”

I cynically wonder if this was not Eleanor’s plan all along. To apologize, to pull my heartstrings, all so I will help her with some new scheme. But truthfully, I do not believe that, even though I want to. I see in her eyes that she feels deep regret. I do not know what to think about that. If she wishes we were still together, that is her loss. If she doesn’t, if she truly loves Woodes Rogers, truly is comfortable in her new role of Governor’s wife, then perhaps she only regrets hurting me. Perhaps she regrets having that on her conscience. But again, that is her burden to bear. She must live with the consequences of her choices.

The door opens. It’s Eleanor’s maid, Mrs Hudson. “What is it?” asks Eleanor.

“Sails have been spotted on the horizon. 

“Sails?” says Eleanor, “whose sails?”

Eleanor rushes up top to see. I follow her from a distance. Either the governor has come back, or he has not. It makes little difference now to me.

“She’s raising a banner!” says Lieutenant Utley. “British colors. She’s flying the governor’s banner! And those are his signs! It’s him!”

I am relieved that it is the Governor and not Edward Teach. The Governer left days ago in pursuit of Teach. If he has come back, that means Teach is dead or captured, which means there may be hope to retake Nassau yet. But it will be a long and bloody fight, and I have no taste for bloodshed. 

I approach Eleanor slowly. “They will all be preparing for the fight ahead of us. Would you like to tell me what it is you are preparing to do?”

She nods, and bids me to come with her below, to the rooms that have been repurposed as her and Mrs Hudson’s chambers. She sits on the bed.

“Should this fight above us come to pass, at best, the outcome is not certain. But what is certain is that many will die and much will be lost. I think we’ve all seen our fair share of loss and I have had enough of it. So, I’d like to ensure that this fight does not come to pass.”

I arch an eyebrow. Wary. “And what will you do to forestall the fight?”

“I am prepared to surrender the governor’s remaining forces... control of the fort, its guns, its magazine. I am prepared to unconditionally release the remainder of the prisoners.”

I am aghast. “Eleanor, why? Why would you give up everything your husband has fought for. That we have fought for?”

“I am not simply going to give everything to Flint. I want something in exchange.”

I press my lips together, but I think I already know the answer. “What?”

“Safe passage off the island for everyone in this fort. And the chest with the remains of the Urca treasure.”

The cache. Anne’s cache. And mine.

“That treasure is not Captain Flint’s to give.”

“The treasure is hidden in a secret place, known only to Silver and Flint and Rackham. I think they can retrieve it and bring it here without drawing the attention of the rest of the pirates.”

“You think Flint and Silver will steal the treasure from their men and give it to you?”

“I do. And I will give half of it to you.”

“You would give me something that is already mine.”

Eleanor purses her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m only trying to be fair.”

“And when the other pirates learn of Captain Flint and Silver’s betrayal, what then?”

“That’s their problem. We will be in Port Royal by then.”

She reminds me of John Silver, so long ago, promising me that we could run away from the consequences of our actions. I know now that it is not so simple.

“The Governor will never agree to this plan.”

“He will. He has taken on great personal debts in order to finance this venture in Nassau, and his creditors are clamouring for repayment. With this money, we could settle those debts, and be free.”

“Where would you go?” I try to hide my bitterness.

“Philadelphia. To my grandparents.”

“You think they will welcome you?”

“I don’t know. But I want to get away from this place.”

“I do not think that Captain Flint and John Silver will accept your terms.”

“They can be reasoned with. They know that they may not win the fight to hold Nassau, and that there will be great loss of life. They too, have lost.”

Captain Flint lost his woman. John Silver lost his leg. But I think for them, loss has made them more committed to the war, not less.

“When will you make this proposal?”

“Now. Woodes will be here within the hour. And I must have an answer immediately. As soon as his ship is in range of the beach, this offer disappears. I will not undermine his position once the shooting starts.”

I am offended that she offered me half of my own cache to help her. But I do not want there to be a battle on the beach. “And I will not undermine your position.”

“Thank you. Max… you don’t know how much it means to me that you will support me in this.”

“And how will you guarantee that the pirates will not double cross you?”

“I will ask one of them to surrender himself and remain here to ensure these terms are honored. Flint or Silver would not see the other killed.”

Yesterday I would have agreed with her. Today, I am not so sure. Billy has tried to push Flint and Silver apart. It is Long John Silver he means to install as Pirate King, not Captain Flint.

“And I will send Mrs Hudson with a message for Woodes. I will tell him that I know he will be angry. And that it will be hard for him to understand, but that my commitment to him remains inviolable. That this is not betrayal, but an act of love.”

It hurts to see her loyalty to Woodes Rogers. I wonder what makes us so different, why she can be loyal to him when she was faithless to me.

“And if he sees it as a betrayal? If he will not accept your plan, and continues towards the beach.”

“Then I will fire a warning shot across his bow.”

My eyes widen.

“He must understand that I’m determined to see this through to the end.”

“Then I hope, for both your sakes, that he listens to you.”

“He will.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter addresses Max's rape. I don't show it, but I do show her reflecting on it.

For the moment, I am alone. Hamund and the rest of Vane’s men are gone. But I cannot leave. I am manacled to the pole of the tent. The iron has made a bloody mess of my ankle.

I do not know and do not care what is happening outside this tent. But I hear things. The men talk amongst each other on the beach.

Mr Noonan is dead, killed by Vane’s crew in a dispute over them using me. Jack Rackham has now taken ownership of the brothel. 

Richard Guthrie is a fugitive. His holdings are being liquidated. He has no ability to pay the captains what he owes them. He’s told them to take it up with Eleanor. There’s a mob outside the tavern. _The cunt is finished,_ says Hamund. _Vane will get us a ship, and we’ll be hunting again soon._ The pirates leave the tent, leave me alone on the beach, to go see what’s happening back in Nassau town.

I sleep for the first time in days. And then I wake, and I am still alone, and I sit on the sand and await their return. Mrs Mapleton comes into the tent. “Come on, everything’s at sixes and sevens back at the house and I have to come and tend to this.” She gets a basin and fills it with a pitcher, in turn fills a douche with bleach water. Anne Bonny ducks into the tent after Mrs Mapleton. I watch her warily. “All right,” says Mrs Mapleton. “Come on, love. Here we go. Open your legs.”

It has been a long time since I have done this. For a year, I have lain with no one but Eleanor, and it was not necessary. And before, when I was fucking men, I would use a sponge and vinegar, as do most of the whores. But I’m raw inside, and I know that this will hurt.

I tentatively open my legs. Mrs Mapleton inserts the syringe and squirts me full of bleach. It burns. I cry out.

“Oh, hush, unless you want to find yourself carrying one of those fools’ brats.”

She does it again. I scream.

“Get out,” says Anne Bonny.

Miss Mapleton stares at her, clearly angered, but she dares not cross her. She leaves.

I’m not sure what she intends to do. But I do not trust her. She fills the syringe again, and lubricates it.

“She wasn’t using enough lotion.”

She lifts my dress and inserts the syringe. She squeezes the bulb and squirts more bleach into me, but she is more gentle than Mrs Mapleton.

Still, it hurts, and I whimper. My teeth are chattering from the pain.

“You could’ve left.” She squirts more bleach. “When that cunt beat Hamund off of you, you could’ve left. You didn’t. Thought you could sweet-talk them all, did ya?”

Vane asked me a similar question yesterday. _I’ve been meaning to ask you. Our mutual friend, she put guards at your door, tried to protect you. Yet you left anyway. Why?_

“What do you care?”

I was surprised to hear it from Vane. I thought of all of them, he would understand. _How did it feel_ , I asked him, _when she threw you aside_? How could he imagine that I could accept aid from Eleanor after what she did to me? How could I stay at the brothel with her guards at my door, knowing that she did not love me anymore, that she offered her help out of guilt and pity?

“Once,” says Anne, “one of them came and put his balls on my shoulder whilst I was asleep. Thought it was funny. Last time he put them anywhere.” She sneers at the memory, then looks at me from under her floppy hat. “If you take it, they’ll give it.”

“Why do you say these things? You were the one who threw me to them in the first place.”

She scowls. “I only thought they’d kill you.”

I thought that they would kill me, too. And I wanted to die. When I saw they meant only to rape me, I thought I could endure it. I have been raped before. I have had rough clients before. But before, whenever it was difficult, being in my body, there was a place I would go inside my mind. There was a room at the big house when I was a child. The parlor. I stood outside that room and watched my sister sing and play, kept warm and clean by her father. My father. Inside that room was peace. And I would go to that room when men were doing what they liked with my body, imagining it was me playing and singing and dancing in that big house.

But now, when I go to the room, it is not me doing those things, but Eleanor. I see her, instead of my sister, dancing and singing while I look on from outside in the filth, bugs biting me. I think somehow I always knew that Eleanor was the girl in that room. That I never really wanted her so much as I wanted to _be_ her. And now that I do not have her anymore, there is no peace in that room for me.

Still, I might have lowered myself and accepted her help, if it hadn’t been for what she did when she tried to rescue me. She beat Hamund off of me. She screamed at Vane’s crew that they were finished. _You will not sell anything. You will not buy anything. You will not eat anything. Unless--unless you decide right now to elect yourselves a new captain. Unless you decide to join the crew of Captain Flint._ She used me, used my suffering, as a pretext to advance Flint’s cause. _You will join his crew and you will grant him disposal of your ship. So what will it be? Beggars under an old captain? Or rich men under a new one?_

So when she came to me, when she said, _I’m so sorry,_ dropping the stick she used to beat Hamund off me, _I’m so sorry he did this to you. Let me take care of you,_ when she came to me, I refused her. And I hurt her.

 _We could have left. We could have been free. He didn’t do this to me. You did_.

And the look on her face, when I told her it was she who was responsible for my suffering, almost made it all worth it. I spared her watching Flint’s crew beat me. I did not spare her watching Vane’s crew rape me. And so when she gave me an opportunity to leave with her, I did not take it. I got up off the ground and I walked back to Captain Rackham. _My actions cost you your pearls._ He lost the sealed pouch he meant to give to Silver and me at the wrecks, tripped and fell running, chasing Mr Silver. _Until the debt is paid, I am yours._ I reminded Eleanor that I, unlike her, pay my debts.

Anne gives me a look that I don’t understand. Then she leaves me alone in the tent. And I wait for Hamund and the rest of them to return.

Later that night, I’m left alone again, except for Anne Bonny, who sits on the beach, sharpening her knives. There are more rumors. Captain Vane has procured a skiff and left the island. No one knows where he has gone or when he will return. Eleanor has formed a consortium with several of the captains to continue to operate trade in Nassau without her father. Captain Hornigold, who controls Fort Nassau, has agreed to support her, but only if she agrees to lift the ban on Captain Vane. I don’t think she will do it, if not for love of me, than for her own pride, but Vane’s crew are eager to be allowed to hunt again, so all of them are at the tavern waiting to see how things play out.

I hear Hamund yelling on the beach.

“Good news, everyone! The cunt’s knuckled under. We’re back in fucking business. You hear that, eh?”

Anne Bonny rises from her place on the sand and stands in front of the tent, blocking Hamund’s path as he comes towards the tent.

“So what’s this now?”

“She don’t want no one touching the whore,” says Slade.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” says Hamund.

“Another step and I’ll show you,” snarls Bonny.

I hear Jack’s voice. “Mr Hamund, permit me a moment with our friend here.”

“Talk some sense into her, Jack. Before she goes and does something stupid.”

Hamund walks a few steps away. Jack lowers his voice, but I can still hear him. “Tell me this is not happening. Tell me you weren’t about to fight Mr Hamund over that fucking whore.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“It would appear that I’ve failed to appreciate just how deeply this situation has disturbed you. But if you’re intent on following this course of action, then I suppose we should do our farewells now because I don’t think I can stomach watching the men throwing you into that tent as well and having their way with you, which is where I fear this story ends unless you pull your shit together.”

Hamund comes back. He and Bonny square off at the opening of the tent, nose to nose. Finally, Anne stands back and lets Hamund inside.

I’m left alone again for the night. When Anne comes back, she’s alone. She ducks under the tent flap and unlocks the shackle at my ankle. “It’s over,” she says.

“What?”

“They’re dead.”

“Hamund?”

“All of them.” 

“How?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get you home.”

I walk back to Noonan’s--Rackham’s, now--Anne behind me, back to my old room. I open the door. I cannot go inside without speaking to her.

“Thank you,” I say, touching her hand, “for what you did for me.”

She pulls her hand back. “I didn’t do it for you.”

I close myself in my room. Then I curl into a ball on the floor and weep.

The next morning, I rise and dress. Idelle comes into my room.

“Alice made you her porridge. Thicker than snot, but it’ll help you get your strength back.” She sets it on my table. “A couple of us are wondering what you plan to do now.”

“Why would anyone care what I do?”

“Darling, you’re all anyone’s talking about out there. All of us wondering what kind of voodoo you used to get eight of Vane's crew to just... up and disappear.”

“Haven’t you heard? They left for Port Royal.”

“And I’m Henry fucking Avery. If you’ve got any thought of working here again, I wouldn’t wait too long.” “What do you mean?”

She laughs. “Mr Rackham’s got no idea how to run this place. We’ve all got a hand in his pocket. Mapleton would tell him, but she’s too busy stealing for herself.”

I hear Mrs Mapleton yell from downstairs. “Idelle! Downstairs. Customer.”

“All I’m saying is get in while the getting’s good.”

I head downstairs, passing Captain Hallindale leaving Alice’s room.

Jack Rackham is sitting at a table in the middle of the atrium of the brothel, a ledger in front of him. Kate sits across from him.

“I’m sorry,” Rackham says to Kate, “but the income you’ve reported for the past two days is simply too low to be believed. I’m going to have to ask you to vacate your room, make way for someone else.”

She sniffles.

“Oh, yes, yes. Here it comes.”

Kate cries.

“Ugh. I’ll have you know I have slit men’s throats while they have wept, begging my forbearance, and slept soundly that very night. If you were hoping to manipulate me, you are barking up the wrong tree.”

Kate sobs.

The other girls and Mrs Mapleton snicker.

“The wrong tree. Jesus Christ.”

Alice comes downstairs. “Mr Rackham.”

He looks up. “What?”

“Five pieces.” She hands them to him.

I walk towards her.

“Oh, look who’s up and about,” she says.

“Who did you just service?” I demand.

“What’s that?”

“Who paid you those coins? It was Captain Hallindale I saw leaving your room, was it not? A man whose sole desire is to be swaddled in canvas while he sucks on a fat, milkless breast like a nursing child.”

Rackham raises an eyebrow.

“And the price we have always charged for mothering is twenty pieces, not five.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re accusing? A handjob pays five. All Captain Hallindale had time for today was a tug.”

I slap her across the face. 

She starts.

“Will your story hold when I ask him to confirm it? Or will you confess your crime now and pray that our new patron is more forgiving than Mr Noonan would have been?”

She pales, then turns to Rackham. “I swear on the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ this will never happen again.”

“For your sake,” he says, “it had better not.”

He smiles at me.

I glare at him. “In my experience, if you do not discipline a whore, she will always take advantage.” I lean down over his table. “Get your fucking house in order.”

After I discipline Alice, the girls fall in line. Over the next few weeks, I do not work myself, but help Mr Rackham keep the books. And I organize a pantomime much like we did for the initiations. It goes over well. The clients are pleased. But I see Mrs Mapleton watching me, and I can tell she is not. There’s a thunderstorm going on, pouring rain. The girls are carrying parasols in the atrium. I stand behind a column and watch as she comes to complain to Mr Rackham. 

“Mr Rackham, a word,” she says. 

“I’ve been expecting you,” he replies. “Please, sit. Won’t you tell me what you think of our little production? The theme is ‘Evenings in Paris.’ I’ll give you three guesses whose idea it was.” 

“Mr Rackham, I just saw the bursar. He says I’m no longer to receive my distribution of the house’s profits. Your instruction?”

“Yes, I did some rough calculations to figure the amount you’ve been skimming from the take since we first began this arrangement. It only seems fair to garnish your proceeds to account for it.”

Mrs Mapleton laughs mirthlessly. “Mr Rackham, I understand your new friend has helped to bring the girls into line, has them reporting their income in a most honest fashion. That must be very nice for you. But let us get something very straight,” she smiles. “I’m not one of the girls. I will have my cut or everyone in this street will know what became of Mr Noonan.”

“You would do that?” asks Jack, in mock shock.

“Don’t you dare doubt it.”

“Well, Mrs Mapleton, that sounds like gross insubordination to me. That, coupled with the graft you’ve been responsible for, leaves me with no choice but to terminate your employment here.”

Her mouth falls open. “What?”

“You’re dismissed. Thank you for your service.”

“Pardon me, but have you lost your mind?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no.”

“I just told you that I am fully willing to inform every merchant in Nassau that you murdered your way into ownership of this place. They will band together to see you hanged.”

I come and take a seat at the table. “Which ones exactly? Which merchants will see Mr. Rackham hanged?”

Jack sips his wine.

“Mr Connors the wheelwright?” I point to the far wall where he sits laughing with a whore on either side of him and another in his lap. “Or perhaps Mr Peterson the butcher.” Who is sitting at one of the tables with a naked whore straddling him. “Maybe Mr Rusch the lapidary?” A whore stands behind him, caressing him with her breasts. “They all have enjoyed steep discounts here lately. Affordable now that the books are in good order.” I show her a smile that’s all teeth. “I wonder, given their fondness for the new management, which one of them would much care what you think happened to Mr Noonan?”

Her eyes narrow. “You forgot the only name that matters, dear. The lady across the street. She finds out about this….”

“Oh, Madam Guthrie knows,” says Jack. “She’s fine with it. But by all means, go ahead, tell her again. I can’t see any harm in it.”

I take a sip of my drink.

Miss Mapleton stands up. “You will regret this, sir.”

“I’m sure I won’t. _Au revoir_.” 

Jack laughs as she leaves, going outside into the rain.

“Please don’t judge me,” he says, “but I really enjoyed that.”

“You do not believe she will attempt to strike back at you?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past her. But at the moment I’ll live with the potential for future trouble over the certainty of actual trouble she was causing here. To a profitable venture.” He raises his glass. “And a partner significantly more pleasing to the eye.”

I raise my glass to his and clink it.

“How the fuck can you cut Mapleton loose without even telling me?”

I can hear Anne shouting from across the brothel, even though she is in their room and I am in mine. I open the door to my room and take off my clothes. I mean to test a theory I have about Anne.

I can hear that they are arguing but cannot make out the rest of their words.

“Fuck you Jack!” shouts Anne.

She storms out into the hall, past my open door, then stops to watch me. I turn and smile at her. There’s a spark there. A spark I’ve seen before. But she tamps it down, and turns away.

I’m downstairs going over accounts when I hear an explosion. And another, and another. The girls scream.

Jack walks out into the street. “Is someone shooting the guns off out here?” he asks. “What the hell is going on?”

“Someone has taken over the fort!” says a man in the street.

“The fort?”

“Who could have taken the fort?”

“It’s Vane!” someone shouts. “He’s returned.”

Vane and a crew of men with locked hair walk up the street to the tavern. 

Eleanor and Captain Hornigold are standing on the bridge that connects the tavern to the brothel, with the rest of their consortium.

“Miss Guthrie,” he says, “I think it’s time we talked.”

Eleanor’s consortium goes back across the bridge into the tavern.

Vane’s crew goes into the tavern through the front doors.

The girls go back inside.

“Nothing here changes,” I tell them. “If Captain Vane’s new crew comes in here, you service them.”

Jack looks ill. I know that he did not agree to the plan to kill Hamund and the others. And I know he is afraid. There is nothing I can do about it.

Hours later, Vane and his men emerge from the tavern and come into the brothel. Mrs Mapleton is with him. She will have told Vane everything she knows, which is enough.

“Captain,” says Jack. “Welcome back. I hear congratulations are in order. Steward of the fort. Stroke of pure genius.”

“In some ways, Jack, it had to come to this,” says Vane. “Don’t you think?”

“Come to what?”

Vane draws a pistol. “Me deciding if you live or die.”

“Captain, I don't know what you’ve heard…”

Vane sits down at a table and sets the pistol in front of him. “Hamund pulls you out of bed... marches you down to the wrecks to look for a stash of stolen pearls. And somehow, only you and your dog make it back alive.”

Anne looks around uncomfortably.

Jack sputters, lost for words.

“Quite a moment. Jack Rackham with nothing to say. Had I a shrewd quartermaster right now, he would tell me that I can’t let what you did stand. He would say an offense like that demanded an example be made of both of you. The bloodier the better.”

My heart is in my throat. I fear I’m about to see Vane kill Jack and Anne both for what they did for me. “But today, I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be. As long as I hold that fort, doesn't really matter. So the street will know what you did. They will know you betrayed your brothers for a woman. That story will spread far and wide and you’ll never sail beneath the black again. You’ll sit in this place and rot with the rest of the whores. Something tells me that’ll sting worse than dying.” He stands up from his chair. “Loyalty, Jack. It’s supposed to mean something. It does to me, anyway.” He stashes his pistol. “Oh,” he says, gesturing to the new decorations I’ve put up in the brothel. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

I look out the window and see Eleanor on the bridge. I go out on our half and stand beside her. “No man’s land. There was a time when stopping halfway across this bridge would have been unthinkable to you. How things change.”

She looks at me. I am wearing a new blue gown, a fine one, which I have purchased with income from the brothel. “I can see that. Max, I know we haven’t spoken, but I just want you to know how sorry I am--”

I cut her off. “Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry about. I was standing between you and your dreams for this place. You did what you had to do.”

There’s pain in her eyes. “I thought you said this place was just sand.”

“Sand has its virtues. On sand, nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. And fates change so quickly. Yesterday Captain Hornigold was immovable from that fort and Captain Vane was a beggar. Now look at them today. Yesterday I was a whore of little consequence, easily dismissed, easily forgotten. Today I am a madam with an income and allies, and a woman who has learned the most important of lessons. Never let anyone stand in between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching it to me.”

Eleanor’s man O’Maley comes out on the bridge. “Ma’am, they’re ready.”

I smile at her. “Congratulations on the launch of your endeavor, by the way. Today you have everything you have ever wanted. I suppose we can only guess what tomorrow will bring.”

Eleanor gives me an uncomprehending look, then turns and walks back over the bridge into the tavern. I want to chase after her. I want to tell her that I will accept her apology. That we can try again. I want to hold her again. I hold fast the the railing of the bridge instead, and watch the sun set over Nassau.

**Author's Note:**

> All transcribed dialogue is taken from [Foreverdreaming.org](https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewforum.php?f=113).
> 
> I also relied heavily on the [Black Sails Wiki](https://black-sails.fandom.com/wiki/Black_Sails_Wiki).


End file.
